Though You Close Your Eyes
by riveroad
Summary: Spike asked Winnie out, she said no and he tried to let things go back to normal. Only then, things didn't go back to normal whatsoever and now he has no idea what he's doing. Rated for language, suggestive situations and the consumption of massive quantities of alcohol. 5-part short story, spoilers for Season Five.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Possibly, I need my head examined for starting myself another universe here but. Silly fluff caught me and wouldn't let me go. And it is - silly and fluffy and I totally apologize.

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* * *

Of course he still likes her. It's not like that just went away when she said no. But Spike's also aware that like, her reason for not dating him is pretty definitive and he doesn't want to fuck up what little bit of their friendship they've got left so he resolutely forces himself to treat her the exact same as he always has.

It's hard.

Harder still when stuff comes up the way it has tonight, Leah's birthday and people who weren't on the graveyard shift milling around the bar. Winnie's in jeans which – fine, he's seen her in jeans before, that, he can deal with. But the top she's got on with the little straps is showing far too much skin than he's used to and like every time she laughs or leans over-

Well, the point is, he's doing his very fucking best acting (that one UC stint he got himself into at Fifty-Two coming back to haunt him) and he's got a beer on hand so he can have something to do if he can't answer a question.

It's just, Winnie's fucking right there, right next to him, has been seeking him out all night and she's a little tipsy, cheeks flushed from the warmth of the bar, laughing at all the things he's saying and like, okay, if he needed proof of the fact that life's not fucking fair, this would be it.

Ed and Sarge took off a couple hours ago, Sam and Jules looking like they'll be next and Leah's totally fucking smashed, sitting in the middle of a bunch of guys she used to work with. Spike almost wishes he was over there instead but he's across the way at another table and Winnie's sitting next to him so he doesn't quite wish for that at all.

"I should get going," Winnie says and he thinks she almost sounds regretful.

He clears his throat, downs the rest of his beer so that he doesn't ask her something completely inappropriate. "Yeah me too. Want me to walk you home?"

It's not just because it's her. It's also the fact that a) his Ma would kill him if she knew he let a girl walk home alone in the dark and b) he's a cop and he knows the stats on girls walking home alone from bars at night.

But she gazes at him and looks all grateful and he swallows because she's looking right into him and her eyes are all friendly and fucking Christ, how does he get himself into these things?

So they settle up, say goodnight to Leah and her buddies and head outside.

Spike has no fucking clue how it happens. One second they're standing on the street and she's laughing at something he's just said and he's grinning at her because she's got a great laugh and the next he's got her backed up right into the brick of her building and is kissing her hard on the mouth, hands sliding over her waist and she's kissing him right back, tongues and teeth and it's just – bad idea.

He pulls away first, apologies all over his mouth but she clears her throat and says, "You wanna come up? Um. I can make you coffee. Kinda cold out here."

And like, yes, of course he does but also, she doesn't date cops and he doesn't understand exactly what-

He's going to have to blame the alcohol, he really is, because even though it's a bad idea, it kind of sounds like a really good idea. Just say no, Spike. Just say no.

She gives him that smile, the one that makes him think she must have just gotten her way with every single boyfriend she's ever had and he hears himself agreeing. So they go up in the elevator and he doesn't touch her.

They get to her apartment door and he has to hold his breath because she's walking in front of him and every time she turns to look at him, he smells her hair and her perfume and that combined with all he's had to drink is turning this into a really dangerous prospect (actually, coming up here at all was probably not exactly a good idea).

He thinks it might be smart to just deposit her at her door, turn around and leave. Seems like a good plan. Yeah. That's what he's going to do.

Except then, she drops her stuff on the floor and pulls him towards her and they're kissing again, he's sliding her coat off her shoulders, running his fingers up her bare arms, barely skimming over those breasts and like, this is a _bad_ idea, a really really bad idea but he bends to kiss her neck and she makes this noise and yeah, so he's pretty much fucked over here.

They stumble their way past her couch, lights still off and she pushes him lightly against the wall, whips her shirt up and over her head and he just stares at her, the way the light from outside the window is catching her skin and she lets out this low throaty laugh and then presses herself against him, hands on his chest, kisses him some more, pulls away only to whisper, "Take this off," against his mouth while pulling at his shirt and like, he is pretty much a hundred percent sure that they're going to regret this in the morning but her skin is sixty different kinds of soft and she kisses exactly the way he imagined she might.

So. Regret? Yeah. Doesn't really care so much about that right now.

* * *

Of course, when he wakes up squinting the next morning (blinds are definitely still open and trust it to be the sunniest day Toronto's ever had) with what feels like the grandmother of all hangovers pressing into the base of his skull and the pit of his stomach, he rethinks all that stuff about regret.

Winnie's lying on his shoulder, hair all over his skin and face so smooth and beautiful in sleep, he just doesn't even know how to-

He can't tell if the nausea in his stomach is because of how much he drank the night before or if it's because he can see how he's about to lose her, the friendship they have, how she always laughs at his jokes. It's just not going to end well.

He also wonders, slightly hysterically, if he can slide out from under her head without her waking up, gather up his stuff and run out the door without her ever knowing. She drank quite a bit too, if he remembers correctly, maybe she's one of those blackout drinkers.

Except then she shifts and he has to think about whether he's going to pretend to be sleeping or not.

Her eyes flicker open and she looks at him, looks around the room. "Hey."

He lets out a huff of incredulous laughter. "Uh. Hi."

She stretches and okay, even though he knows that he shouldn't look, he does. He totally does. Winces a little when he sees the hickies on her. Is going to go ahead and blame it on being drunk and on the fact that you know, he ended up in bed with the girl he's been literally dreaming about. That would make any guy lose it. Clears his throat. She rolls onto the other pillow and looks at him with interest. "I need coffee. You want?"

"Uh. Never say no to coffee." What is he even saying? He says no to coffee all the time.

She nods, pushes herself up and like, okay, he feels like guilty or something looking at her (it's just – she's naked, is the thing but also at the same time, she's like incredibly beautiful naked so he also can't look away). She glances at him over her shoulder as she slides on underwear and these shorts that are so short he has no idea why she's even bothering. Pulls on a t-shirt that's too small and too tight and if she's trying to make him stop thinking about what she looks like naked, she's doing a _really_ bad job.

He waits until she leaves the room before getting up himself and daring to take a cautious look around the room. And apparently, they had a really fun time last night because it's a disaster. As in. Clothes all over the place and stuff knocked off her dresser (he has this very vague memory of their second time, the dresser, Winnie knocking over all these bottles and then just giggling and turning around – okay so he's not going to look at the dresser anymore).

Spike has no idea where his shirt is but considers it a victory when he has on his underwear and jeans (finds his belt half under the bed and only one sock but you know, small triumphs), ducks into the bathroom and uses Winnie's mouthwash before splashing water on his face and thinking he looks like he spent all night drinking too much and then went home with the girl he's half in love with and slept with her. So. There's that.

Winnie's sitting at the table, two mugs of coffee in front of her and the paper spread open. His shirt's lying on the ground in front of the couch.

He shuffles in the doorway to her bedroom for a second before telling himself to stop being a stupid little wuss and to start acting his age. Picks up his shirt and pulls it on. Clears his throat as he slides into the seat across from her. She pushes one of the mugs towards him without looking up.

"Uh. Thanks."

It's too hot but he drinks it just to have something to do with his hands. (Like. He doesn't have anything to do with his _hands_. It shouldn't be a thing that makes him feel this total wave of anguish but it totally does.) He's really glad when it doesn't immediately come right back up, to be totally honest, hopes it stays down where it's supposed to be.

"You okay?" she asks, turns the page.

"Uh. Think I should probably be asking you that." He has this distinct memory of Winnie slamming her elbow into the doorframe. Not to say anything about the marks all over her skin. He can't actually remember being rough like that. Like. Ever. He should probably avoid drunken sex forever.

She smiles. "Oh, I'm good. Thanks."

And it sounds – it kind of sounds like she's _flirting_ with him which makes absolutely no sense at all. He takes another sip of coffee.

"So what are you up to today?"

She asks it casually, like they're standing at the dispatcher desk and talking about what they're going to do on their days off. Spike stares at her. "Uh. Groceries I guess. You?" And the best he can come up with is groceries. He's sounding like a real ball of excitement over here.

"Need to clean up." She shoots him this sly look that he can't for the life of him figure out. It's just – she said _no_, no cops and now it's just like that conversation never took place or something. "Chill out. Relax."

He clears his throat and opens his mouth to say God knows what, closes it and clears his throat again. Fiddles with his mug.

"You hungry?"

"Uh. Not really." Nope. This hangover is so bad that no amount of greasy food is going to help it. As in. If he eats anything, he's going to puke. Really would like to avoid doing that in front of her.

She gives him that sly little look again and okay, if he _has _stepped into a parallel universe, it would just be really great for someone to _tell_ him. "More coffee?"

And he accepts just so he can stay a little bit longer – which probably means that the first thing he should do when he gets home is find himself a shrink.


	2. Chapter 2

Their next shift together, he spends a solid six and a half minutes psyching himself up to walk through the front doors. Has to take a moment in the elevator to get himself together and, as he's walking down the hallway and he's about to lay eyes on the desk, he realizes he's counting his breaths in his head.

"Morning Spike!" Comes from behind him.

He splutters out something that he's pretty sure isn't even English. Or any other language mankind has thus far invented.

Winnie raises her eyebrows, gives him this amused look that really only serves to make her about a hundred times prettier than she already is. "Are you okay?"

He clears his throat. "Fine." Wow, has his voice always been that high? He kind of hopes not. "I'm fine. Um. You?"

She starts telling him about how she nearly got hit by a cyclist, how she dropped just about everything she was carrying but saved her coffee so it wasn't all bad and he'd better hurry up because she knows Team One is already in the gym and he's nearly late and he hears exactly two words that she says.

He laughs when there's a pause though because he kind of thinks that's expected and she grins at him.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you something," she says, takes a step closer and he's having a really dozy morning because all he does is fix his gaze on her mouth, thinks about how much he'd like to bite down lightly on her bottom lip. "Um. Do you think that-"

"Spike, you'd better hurry up, Jules is running work out today so unless you want to puke or be publicly humiliated-" Spike turns his head and Sam clears his throat. "Oh sorry, Winnie. Didn't see you there." He looks between the two of them a few times and then raises an eyebrow. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Spike removes what he thinks may be a dirty look from his face with difficulty, tells himself that all these complicated feelings he has for Winnie are really not Sam's fault, turns his head back, tries to give her a reassuring smile and really hopes the next thing out of her mouth isn't some kind of awkward observation on how he's been carrying condoms around in his wallet (it is a _precaution_, and he'll repeat that until he dies). "What did you want to ask me?" Also, his voice is now back to normal. Good to know.

She lets out this giggle that he's seriously never heard before, kind of high-pitched and not entirely the nicest noise that's ever come out of her mouth before (actually, now he's thinking about all the nice things he's heard come out of her mouth before and if he's not careful, he's going to completely embarrass himself). "Um. Nothing. Nevermind. Um. You should go."

"Are you sure? Cause Sam's full of shit, Jules would never publicly humiliate me. We all know I'm her favourite." He can just see Sam out of the corner of his eye.

"Funny, Spike, you're hilarious," Sam says dryly but he's also got this smirk on his face like the most entertaining scene in the world is taking place right in front of him.

Spike shoots Sam a look, like why in the hell is he loitering in the doorway to the gym eavesdropping on private conversations? "Sam, do you want something else?"

"What? No. I was just-" He clears his throat, makes this weird motion with his hand and then disappears around the side of the wall.

Spike shakes his head. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

Winnie swallows, gives him this smile that kind of looks like she just got a whiff of an unpleasant smell. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. Okay, see you later!" She strides past him and as she does, he catches a glimpse of a mark on the side of her neck, not quite covered by the collar of her shirt.

He scratches at the back of his head, thinks he should probably feel kind of bad about that. Only he doesn't. Actually wouldn't mind giving that mark a couple more friends.

Also. He spends most of the day torn between like, stopping at the desk to say hello and also, not wanting to stop by the desk at all because there's this underlying current of weird that's almost too much. So, if anyone was wondering if sleeping with someone you work with changes things?

Yeah. It definitely changes things.

* * *

Things don't really improve in the days after that. He's jumpy around her, no other word he can use to describe it, even days after the fact. It's just - now he knows what Winnie looks like on her back with him lying over her, knows how ticklish she is in that spot right beneath her ribs, knows what her face looks like when-

Right. So. He's jumpy, hears her laugh and feels like he can't swallow, has her reach out and touch his arm when she's talking (nothing new, it's how she is, he is not _special_ here) and his mind goes totally blank. As in, he's in the middle of a story about this old lady at his bank and Winnie's laughing and he looks at her and totally forgets what in the hell he was even talking about and has to make the rest of it up. It is by far the best thinking on his feet he's ever done. True story.

It's Leah he confesses to, one evening after a brutal shift. She's driving, radios off because shift is done and they're going back to HQ and he's really only thinking about Winnie and her smile.

"Something going on with you?" She asks it all sweetly but he knows Leah and there's just no way he's telling her anything.

He glances at her, shakes his head, looks out the window (it's snowing, light and the roads are slippery and the traffic sucks. He almost wants to do what his old partner at Fifty-Two used to - flip on the lights and make a dash for it up the shoulder, regulations be damned).

"You've been acting weird. Weirder than usual. Spending a lot of time with that robot of yours." She raises her eyebrows like she's joking.

"Aw, are you looking for my attention too, Leah?" He grins at her.

"Hilarious," she says dryly. "And don't try and change the subject. You okay?"

"I'm okay."

"You sure? Because you don't really look okay. And you're not acting okay."

It's probably the hint of concern that does him in. In any case, that's the story he's going with. He looks at the brake lights in front of them, looks out the window again. "I slept with Winnie."

There's a long silence and for a second, he wonders if maybe he didn't actually say anything at all. And then Leah clears her throat and that hope is dashed. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"So what? Are you guys like-"

He shrugs, keeps looking out the window. "We aren't anything. It was a mistake."

"Her words or yours?"

"She hasn't said anything about it." And in some ways, he's grateful for that because who in the hell wants to have _that_ conversation and in other ways, it kind of makes him want to throw himself in her path and say something to the effect of, 'WHY DON'T YOU LIKE ME?' which is absurd and quite clearly not something he's going to do. He has _limits _here.

"You think it was a mistake?"

He shrugs again. Winnie's treating him like she sleeps with her coworkers every weekend, which is to say, exactly the same, not jumpy at all and sometimes all he can do is think about how badly he wants to kiss her.

"How did that happen?"

"It was an accident," he says before realizing that dropping your keys in a rain gutter is an accident, knocking over a mug of Ed's coffee because he placed it too close to your elbow is an accident, having Sam turn around far too close to you, nearly taking your eye out with the front sight of his MP5 is an accident. Sleeping with Winnie really isn't on the same level.

Leah snorts, gives him a look like she's thinking the exact same thing. "Where?"

"Where, what?"

It's a pitying look this time, like maybe he really is that stupid. "Where did you sleep with her?"

It all sounds a bit like she's asking for too much more information than he's willing to give, like what is she even asking for here, locations, dates and times, places in those locations? "Uh. Her place? I uh. Walked her home."

"I bet you did," she mutters under her breath, a smirk on her face.

He shoots her a half-hearted glare because if this were anyone else but him, he'd probably have said the exact same thing. "Le-ah," he complains.

She cackles, mutters something that sounds like the words to a Ricky Martin song but he's not entirely sure and he certainly doesn't want to ask. "Fine fine. You just what, slept with her and left?"

He thinks about spending the night, about seeing the sun's rays on Winnie's skin, sitting across from her and awkwardly drinking his coffee, trying desperately not to do something stupid like spill it all over the place and then clearing his throat and having her walk him downstairs with a sweatshirt pulled around her (how her shorts were still way too short for him to do anything but sneak little looks at her out of the corner of his eye). "Not quite like that."

She glances at him as they slow down again, DVP looking like a parking lot and seriously, whose bright idea was it to take this route at the tail-end of rush hour in bad weather? "What does that mean? You stayed over or something?" Raises her eyebrows when he doesn't answer. "Wow."

"Yeah." Actually, he doesn't know why exactly that equates to 'wow' but he's had just about as much of feeling like an idiot in one conversation as he can handle.

"So what's the problem?"

He shrugs.

"Oh."

"Oh what?"

"You know, it's not like she turned you down," she says cautiously. "Not like she said no."

He rolls his eyes at her. "Really? Cause it pretty much felt exactly like that."

She rolls her eyes right back at him. "That's not how I remember it. I remember hearing something about a perfect guy and not throwing a rule out the window for any cop on the planet. That's not the same."

He rubs a hand over his face, sighs. Resists the urge to tell her that actually, yes, it is the same.

"Well at least now you know what it's like. Not like you have to torture yourself thinking about it." She looks like she's trying to gauge his reaction. He tries his best not to let anything show on his face, is _really_ glad he's not having this conversation with Boss. "Unless, of course, it's not just about making her laugh."

He doesn't say anything.

Cars in front of them start moving and she lets out a sigh. "Spike - I'm sorry. That really sucks."

He just shrugs, wants to tell her it's not a big deal but can't seem to get the words out.

"You want me to talk to her?"

"Uh, I'd really like the exact opposite of that please." Because pretty much, that would be the most mortifying thing he could ever imagine.

"Why, are you going to do it?" She looks impressed.

"Do _what_?"

"Tell her how you feel."

He stares at her, wonders how exactly she can be so good at negotiating with parents and kids and yet, so extremely bad at listening. "Okay, seriously Leah? Are you new? I already did that, remember, didn't go so well."

"You asked her to dinner, you didn't tell her that you're in-"

He interrupts her, holds his hand up at the same time like it can somehow stop the words coming to of her mouth. "Don't. Don't say it. That doesn't even make sense. We're work friends. That's it."

Leah shoots him this kind of frustrated frown and then doesn't mention it again.

When they finally make it back to work and he passes the desk, Winnie glances up and gives him this smile that almost makes him trip. He doesn't dare look at Leah, has a feeling she's got this look on her face like she's all knowing or something. So annoying.

* * *

A week and a half later, Team One goes for drinks at The Goose (back in the day, he and Lew used to argue for the Fox and Fiddle instead - now he just goes along with it, not like there's anything wrong with The Goose anyhow). Leah and Jules are taking freaking ages in the locker room, Sam goes to check on them and then comes back with this funny look on his face and says, "They're going to meet us there."

Ed snorts. "What are they doing, painting each other's nails?"

Spike actually thinks that's a pretty fair question, Jules and Leah don't usually take half as long (Jules told him once it was because she had no one to impress and then she'd raised her eyebrows at him and looked _really_ unimpressed. That was before Sam joined the team but Spike still kind of thinks the general gist of it holds).

Sam just shrugs but he shoots Spike a slightly amused look and Spike has no idea what in the hell that's all about.

They sit in their usual spot, Boss stealing a chair from some other people while the rest of them push the tables together. Spike's halfway through his first beer when Sam goes, "Took you guys long enough."

He looks up and almost chokes because Leah and Jules are standing there - and so is Winnie. Which - not a big deal. It isn't. Until she slides onto the bench next to him, gives him a smile before she says hello to everyone else and he knows he's staring (and not just because he's getting this weird look from Ed but because it's what he does if he doesn't have time to mentally prepare himself for seeing her) but he also just can't- "You cut your hair," he says abruptly. She's had it up all day, this kind of ballerina bun (had a girlfriend in high school who was a dancer, used to be turning pirouettes in the kitchen with her pointe shoes on while he was trying to study), all neat and pretty. Not that it's not pretty now. Nope. Not at all. It's all bouncy and like wavy and possibly if he keeps thinking about her hair, he's just going to have to hand over his man card and be done with it.

She looks surprised. "I-yeah."

"Looks nice," he says, takes the longest sip of his beer ever, ignores the look Ed's still giving him.

"I didn't even notice," Ed says apologetically.

Winnie snorts. "I never expect a guy to notice my hair," she says with a laugh but Spike knows that she gives him this look before she glances up at the waiter to order and he's still plowing through his beer, motions for another pitcher. He can feel the warmth from her leg seeping into his and he wonders if he can move over slightly (except he can't because Ed's on his other side and the man is a refrigerator and won't be moved).

After he's finished his second pint and he's well into his third, he nudges Ed out of the bench and then books it for the bathroom, does his business and then gives himself five seconds to calm the fuck down and stop acting like an idiot. Jumps a whole entire mile when he comes out and Leah's standing right there like she's about to come in after him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She snickers. "Had to request a song. God, I love when this place has a live DJ, it really gives it all a little something extra, don't you think?"

He's not about to tell her she's completely fucking insane so he just smiles and steps around her. Only then, twenty minutes later when Ricky Martin is singing about how she bangs, he chokes into his beer and Leah cracks right the fuck up, slams her hand against the table, laughs so hard that she gets the rest of them laughing too. Except Spike. He just pours himself another glass, tries not to spill any on Winnie, shoots Leah a sour glare that she doesn't even see.

So. Having Winnie next to him is pretty much a recipe for ending up trashed. He has to keep pouring himself beers or he knows he'll say or do something stupid and every time she turns to talk to him, he has to take a long sip, force himself not to touch her. Which kind of backfires in his face because now he's a little drunk (or like, completely fucking hammered, whatever) and all he can think about is touching her.

Jules is laughing her ass off at him (he's a chatty drunk, is all, no news there, he's just a shade behind drunk to the point where he'll confess everything to everyone, thinks this might actually be a good point to stop) and Sam's giving him this look like 'slow it down, bro', you know, if Sam were the type to run around calling him bro but obviously, he can't, especially since every five seconds, Winnie laughs and every time she does, her elbow ends up brushing against his chest (and it sure does beat the moment when she leans over to say something to Boss and the side of her breast ends up against his arm. He has to stare straight ahead and think about cattle). It's just - it's a bad scene.

He's pretty sure he's going to be walking home tonight which is just fine except when they're outside, Winnie looks at him, smiles and goes, "Need me to walk you home? You know…return the favour?" and like red flag, red flag, and also, it doesn't make any sense because how exactly is she planning on getting home herself but because he apparently left his brain in that last pitcher, he just shrugs and says if she feels like it.

Which like. No. This is bad. It's so bad.

He jams his hands in his pockets, tries to ignore the itch in his fingers to touch her.

Two blocks from his house and they stop at the crosswalk even though there's no one there, even though they could just jaywalk, no cars in sight, and she kind of pushes him under the awning of a convenience store and then kisses him hard on the mouth, hands still on his chest.

They stumble across the road, make it to his place stopping to make out every few steps (and he may be groping her just a little but she's got his shirt half unbuttoned so it's not like he's alone in this and it's like objectively, while he knows this is so incredibly stupid they should give him a gold star for stupidity, there's no part of him that's going to put a stop to it).

It's like a rerun of the first time only a better sequel, like he doesn't have to fumble around so much trying to figure out what she likes. Also, she's a hell of a lot more talkative. Which – interesting.

He's lying on his back afterwards thinking that the room is spinning and the feel of Winnie lying against his shoulder is equal parts exhilarating and like, fucking depressing too. She clears her throat. "Um. Are we okay?"

He has no idea how to answer that. 'Yes, this is a thing we should do all the time' or 'not really, because all this is doing is making me want everything' and like, neither one of those seems like a good idea.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

She turns in his arms, rolls onto her stomach and looks at him, eyes all wide and those freckles sprinkled across her nose and yeah, he is so totally beyond fucked here. "We're okay, right?" She sounds kind of worried.

And, he finds that looking into those eyes, all he can say is, "Of course we are."

She leans up, kisses him some more and then slides one of those long legs over him.

So.


	3. Chapter 3

He wakes up the next morning, his alarm almost blaring at him, half expecting her to be gone (also, he has a terrible headache and he really thinks that he needs to stop drinking, period, or at the very least, consider it) but she's right there, halfway down the bed, face buried in his ribs, one arm over his chest.

He clears his throat, pokes at her a little. It's just - if he touches her too much, he doesn't even know what's going to happen but he's pretty sure it's going to involve confessing things he'd really rather not confess and that's just not a good way to start any morning. "Um." He clears his throat again. "Winnie?"

She turns her face, opens one eye and it's possible that he needs to have his head examined, how he still finds her so incredibly pretty even with makeup smudged under her eyes and her hair all tangled (is possibly thinking about all the ways he helped get that hair tangled). "Do we have to get up now?" she yawns.

"Uh. If you don't want to be late for work, yeah, probably." He clears his throat and tries to fix his eyes on the ceiling.

She makes a face, pulls herself up and then slides off the bed, looks around. He follows her gaze, thinks that his room fared a little better than hers did although he's a little nervous about what the bathroom looks like, remembers a crash that's probably not really a good idea to be remembering, like his morning situation isn't already_ present_. "Ugh. Guess I'm doing the walk of shame in last night's clothes."

She's just so off-handed about it, while he's still lying there freaking the fuck out quietly in his head and seriously, he never used to be like this. At least - well, judging from the only one night stand he's ever had, he never used to be like this.

"Actually...can I borrow a shirt?" she asks, gathering up her jeans and underwear and heading into the bathroom. Glances over her shoulder. "I'll give it back, I promise."

He just nods at her wordlessly, thinks she can keep whatever the hell she wants from him, actually. Pulls himself out of the bed when she closes the door to the bathroom and rubs hard at his face, runs his fingers through his hair and wonders what in the fuck is wrong with him that he apparently _wants_ to torture himself this way. Although, at the same time, he'd like to not think about all the reasons he couldn't just tell her last night wasn't a good idea _while it was happening_.

"You uh. You want some coffee?" he calls out, pulling on his clothes as he does. Catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, rubs at his face again. He's got a fading bruise on his shoulder (kind of looks like teeth marks, actually) which - no idea how he's going to explain that one. Thinks this will have to be the day he takes way longer than everyone else in the locker room. Hung over, it means Ed will be riding his ass all day long. So. Can't wait for that.

"Please!" she calls back. "You're a life saver!"

He hears his shower running and feels like his mouth is too dry, tries not to imagine anything at all about Winnie in his shower. Steamy, naked, wet – he jams his fingers into his eyes and shakes his head. Seriously. Stop. He has to stop.

He pours her coffee into a mug and mindlessly adds a teaspoon of sugar, the whole time wondering how in the hell he gets himself into these situations.

She comes down the stairs in her jeans and bra, holding her shirt in one hand and he thinks it may be time to get his mouth stapled shut, stop his jaw from dropping. "Which one can I borrow?"

And he really wishes he was the kind of man who wouldn't stare right at her chest but he's not, has apparently lost all sense of what good manners even are, tries to tell himself that it's because the deep purple coloured bra looks way too good against her skin and that really, she should feel flattered, if anything. It kind of makes him feel like just a little less of a skeevy used-car salesman. "Uh. What?" He's really trying to get his eyes onto hers here, he really is.

"You said I could borrow a shirt?"

She's dropped her own over the back of a chair, is twisting her wet hair up like this is a casual occurence and he just swallows. "Doesn't matter. Whichever one you like."

She flashes him that grin and as soon as she's exited the kitchen and he can hear her footsteps on the stairs, he drops his elbows onto the counter, smashes his face into his hands. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

He resolutely doesn't turn away from his counter top when she gets back, downs two glasses of water in a bid to feel a little less like a herd of elephants is stampeding around in his brain. He leaves her drinking coffee in his kitchen and pulls himself back up his stairs even though he kind of feels like he'd like to lie down and just die right there on the fifth step. Takes a shower and brushes his teeth and feels a marginal two percent better afterwards. Mentally pats himself on the back for not passing out in the shower.

They take the streetcar together, end up on one that stalls so they have to get off and walk the rest of the way there because Winnie is morally opposed to shuttle buses and he is fucking useless at contributing to the conversation which is fine because he likes listening to her talk. It's just. It's bad, is what it is because he keeps glancing at her and seeing her coat and being reminded that she's got one of his shirts on underneath, all tied up so that it didn't hang down like a sack (she was like, worried about stretching it out and he didn't know how to tell her that he doesn't really give a shit, is pretty much going to think of her every single time he looks at that shirt for the foreseeable future and probably beyond that too).

He gets into the locker room and seriously, he knows he's late for work out but Boss isn't such a stickler for it the way Ed was so he just thinks that if he gets changed and then sprints eight miles before he does anything else, nothing will even get said about it, looks around and then slams his forehead into Wordy's old locker (is kind of hoping that he'll snap out of what seems to be becoming a habit of sleeping with his coworker). "Come in," he calls out, voice muffled by metal.

Leah pokes her head around the door, shirt already wet with sweat. "What are you doing? Are you sick?"

He glances at her, reaches into his open locker for some Advil.

She snorts. "Or should I say, hung over? Are we going to need an intervention?"

"Bite me," he says childishly.

"Drink some water," she advises, smirks and crosses her arms like she's Leah, The Great and Powerful.

He clears his throat.

"What?"

He looks around, half expecting someone to be in the locker room with them. Also, he has no idea at all when Leah fucking Kearns became his confidante when it came to all things Winnie but that's apparently exactly what she is. Possibly something he should think about when he's sobered up completely. "Um. So. Winnie stayed over."

She stares at him and she kind of looks surprised but she also kind of looks amused. "What? Again?"

He makes a face, wonders what in the hell her tone of voice is supposed to mean. "Yes. Again," he mimics. He clears his throat as he pulls his work out gear out of his locker. "It was an accident," he says because she's giving him this look that feels like she's his mother or something, slightly disapproving and like he should know better or something.

She lets out a snort of laughter. "I'm sure it was," she says patiently. "Well. Who am I to judge? Hurry up."

He glares at her, drops his jeans and pulls off his t-shirt, gloomily wonders why they even bother having separate locker rooms considering the amount of time Jules, Leah and Jessica from Team Six spend in the Men's. "Well then stop standing there looking all…judge-y."

She completely ignores him, stares at his shoulder. "Jesus." She looks at him with one eyebrow raised. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Oh shut up," he mutters as rudely as he can. Can't think of anything else to say.

"They _do_ always say it's the ones you never expect to-"

"Leah!" he complains. "Please!" He has no idea if he's glad it's Leah who's seeing the marks on his back and shoulder or if he'd rather be having this conversation with Sam who would probably bump fists with him. Maybe. Probably not. In any case, Spike thinks he'd like the third option, the one where he doesn't have to have this conversation at all.

"I'm just saying. That's interesting. Huh."

"Huh what? What's huh?"

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Nothing. Relax."

He stops at the water fountain for a drink and Leah leans against the wall. He can feel her eyes on him. "What?" he asks, swallowing and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Nothing. Not a thing."

"Leah." They've already talked about how she's not supposed to communicate with those ridiculous eyebrow raises and jerks of her chin, like those are not things he responds well to and she knows it.

"Okay, seriously, why don't you just tell her that it wasn't just dinner you were asking her for and see what she says? That's not dating! Maybe dating is the problem, not being together."

He actually isn't so sure he sees the distinction, stares at her and then starts off for the gym. "I'm not discussing this with you. This is not a thing we need to _talk_ about."

She huffs but follows him and he has to put his earphones in with a splitting headache so that she'll take the hint and not talk to him.

He gets through shift just fine, for the most part, just keeps popping Advil every two hours, gets through patrol and ignores Leah's encouraging looks every time he glances over at her. When they're heading back to HQ though, she leans over and flips off his radio before she turns off her own.

He just stares at her, wonders when she lost all concept of personal space and also, why she's still giving him that look like she's trying to coax a turtle out of its shell. "What?"

"Okay, so back to what we were talking about earlier-"

He groans, makes a face at her. "We weren't talking about _anything_ earlier. I told you something. That's it. We don't need to discuss it to death."

She sighs heavily. "I think you should just try a little harder."

"What does that even mean?" he asks incredulously.

"Winners never quit, Spike."

He stares at her in confusion. "Uh. Okay?"

"And quitters never win." She looks at him expectantly.

"Yeah, I still don't see-"

"You can't just give up! You have to seize the moment! Seize the opportunity!" She gestures dramatically with her hand and he leans back against the window so that she doesn't accidentally take his eye out.

"What opportunity? Okay, seriously. Did the two of us live through two different situations? I asked her out, remember? You were still in the briefing room? And she said-"

She shoots him this look like she's telling herself to be patient with the moron. "I know what she _said_. But it's not what she _meant_."

If this whole thing weren't so completely depressing, he'd be laughing. "I'm pretty sure that is what she meant, actually."

She raises her eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? You think Winnie Camden, our little dispatcher Winnie Camden, goes around screwing every guy she sees?"

He'd really like the answer to that one to be 'no'. But that sounds like he wants to be special or something or like he thinks he is and he doesn't want to come off sounding presumptuous – even if it _is_ just Leah sitting there.

She's surveying him out of the corner of her eye. "Okay, I'm going to tell you something and if you repeat it to anyone, I will kill you. I'm not kidding."

He wants to tell her that he'd really like some quiet time right now but highly doubts that'll go over well. "Okay?"

"Say it."

"Say...what?" Honestly, sometimes, he thinks half of Leah's conversations have to go on in her own head, she provides absolutely no context and sometimes, he really wants to tell her to use her words (he's not going to though, kind of likes having the use of both his legs).

"Say that you promise that you're not going to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you and that if you ever do repeat it, I will murder you. Slowly and painfully. I'm not kidding." She shoots him a maniacal grin that he thinks is supposed to tell him that she probably is kidding about the murder part.

He sighs heavily, wonders why this conversation had to get started at all. "I promise that I'm not going to tell anyone what you're about to tell me," he parrots.

"And?" she says expectantly.

"I just said that I wasn't going to-"

"Spike!"

He sighs again, leans his chair back a little and stares at the roof of the car. "And if I ever repeat this to anyone, you'll kill me. Okay so? What is it?"

"So Ben's first day at SRU, he asked Winnie out."

He turns that over in his mind, vaguely wonders if it's normal to want to find Pretty Boy Dispatcher and aim a right hook at his stupid jaw. "Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

Leah rolls her eyes. "She said no."

He snorts. "Right well. She wants 'balance', whatever the fuck that means. So. I'm not surprised."

"Ben's not a cop."

"And?"

She shoots him this look like she'd like to reach over and open the car door, shove him out of the moving vehicle so she doesn't need to continue having him sit next to her. "Ben's _really_ hot. Like. So hot. He's a little confused but he's hot."

"Good for Ben," Spike mutters moodily. "Do you have a point?"

"Well she hasn't slept with Ben. If that helps."

Spike ponders that one for a second. "Yeah, it really doesn't help."

Her jaw drops. "Well it should! You know what those dispatchers are like. Anyhow. So?"

"So why did you tell me this story?" he says with an eye roll. "All I got from it is that Super-Hot Ben asked Winnie out and she said no."

Leah looks at him like he's finally understood an obscure fact. He doesn't really want to have to be the one to tell her that he has no idea what in the hell she's talking about.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Silliness is about to abound. Because I needed something far less depressing to think about than the fact that this show is over (yes yes, I know, I've been saying it for two months, get some new material, etc). So, if you needed some silliness too, thanks for reading.

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You know what really sucks? Here's what's currently at the top of his list:

1) People dying

and

2) Going to an SRU team building event (like that's not bad enough as it is, seriously, he'd really like to exchange a word or two with Norm Holleran - obviously isn't going to, you know, he likes being employed but still), and having Winnie spend the whole time talking to fucking Ben.

Super-Hot-Ben, the one Leah is always winking at, Ben. Ben. Who's been monopolizing Winnie all night long, Spike just can't even look at them anymore (except, he's not looking at anyone else either which is incredibly inconvenient). He's staying far away from the alcohol this time but he can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing because he's just watching Winnie and she seems to be perfectly content, just leaning on the edge of a table and smiling up at that total idiot. Which - Spike would kind of just like to go home now.

"You know, you might want to wipe that glare off your face." Leah takes a bite out of her carrot stick. "He's not her type. Don't forget what I told you."

"I'm not glaring," he mutters. Also wonders exactly what Winnie Camden's type is.

"Trust me. It's not going to happen. Not that it matters either way since you seem hell bent on keeping your mouth closed." She lets out a derisive snort. "Remind me again why you're keeping your mouth closed?"

He rolls his eyes. He's almost positive that it's a rhetorical question, is reasonably sure that Leah doesn't suffer from short-term memory loss. "I already asked her out. She said no. What more-"

"Tell her how you feel! That it's not just about taking a chance, it's about-"

He looks at her incredulously, wonders who in the hell would have ever guessed that Leah Kearns would one day start enthusiastically spouting gibberish about not just taking chances. "Stop it. You sound like an article right out of Cosmo." Turns his attention back to Ben. (Fucking Ben).

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that." Leah Kearns is so not amusing.

He switches his glare to her. "Did you want something?"

She shakes her head at him. "Spike, come on. She's not a mind-reader, you know. Dating is terrible, anyone who's ever been on one first date knows that. Who wants to ruin a really good friendship by dating? Or, gag, going through that with someone you're contractually obligated to see the next day…at _work_? Fucking no one." Leah Kearns is also a little bit annoying.

"Leah," he starts patiently, "I don't know what-"

"But you're not asking her for a bad first date. You're asking her to _be_ with you. Trust me, it's not the same thing," she finishes emphatically. And apparently, Leah Kearns is also a total fucking closet romantic. He's almost sure that his jaw's hanging open. "So maybe you should-"

He groans loudly and interrupts her. "Can you just-"

"No! You can't give up!"

He lets out a patient sigh. "There's nothing _to_ give up. Why are you so hellbent on me getting my pride stomped on all over again?"

She rolls her eyes like that is the least important thing he could be focusing on right now. "So this is the alternative? Sleeping together whenever you're drunk? Really? This isn't frosh week."

He shoots her a murderous gaze, wishes he'd never told her in the first place. "I know that."

"So then?"

He sighs, eyes settling onto Winnie's laughing face again. "If this is all I can have then it's…it's enough." He's not stupid enough to think it's the kind of _arrangement_ that's going to last forever and he's not going to ruin it by asking questions.

She chokes on her drink. "That…is fucking depressing as all hell."

"Oh, okay, thanks. Thanks for your input." Also, he would really like to ask her to please go away but it's rude.

She sighs. "And if I hadn't pointed it out to you? If I hadn't said, 'Spike, you like making Winnie laugh, what do you think that means?', what, you'd just have gone on with your life?"

"My life was going on pretty well till you did that, actually." Chomps violently on a cracker. He wonders if he should just _be_ rude.

"Yeah? Single? Alone in your house every night? All your friends getting paired up?" Seriously, is it necessary for her to be so ruthless? It sounds really fucking sad when she puts it like that. Like. Maybe he should get a cat. Or something.

"You're not paired up." Maybe she's the one who should get a cat.

"That's not the point I was making. I mean. Look at her. That's not the kind of girl that just dies alone! Some other guy is going to sweep right in and-"

He rolls his eyes. "Leah. She doesn't feel that way. What do you want me to do? I can't force her and unless you've got some Jedi mind tricks sitting in your back pocket…"

She sighs like she just can't take talking about this anymore, finishes her carrot stick and clinks her glass against his.

He runs into Fucking Ben at the bar when he's attempting to order his twenty-fifth glass of orange juice and wishing desperately for something a little harder so that he can at least pretend to have some kind of not-terrible time. Which is probably an alcoholic's way of thinking but at this point, he just really doesn't give a shit.

"Hey Spike!"

"Ben, hey! Didn't see you there!" Yeah. No. He definitely saw him there.

"How's it going, man?"

Spike glances at him and then tries to get the bartender's attention. "Just fine. Man. You?" He mentally pats himself on the back for that one, he actually sounded like he gave a shit.

"Been hanging out with Winnie. She's great, eh?"

He doesn't even bother dignifying that one with a response, just orders his orange juice.

"You know if she's still single?"

Spike's vaguely aware of Leah on Ben's other side, looking like she's listening to the person she's talking to but he sees how her eyes flick towards him and it still doesn't stop him which is probably a thing he should sit quietly in a corner and ponder. Tomorrow. "Think she's seeing someone, actually." It rolls right off his tongue like the truth. And then he's horrified at himself for being one of _those_ people. Clears his throat and says, "But I uh. Don't know if that's still a go. So."

Leah looks like she's spluttering into her glass.

Ben orders a Corona which has Spike rolling his eyes because really, not exactly the drink of real men (completely ignores the fact that he's drinking orange juice from a straw), and then he stops rolling his eyes when Ben also orders a ridiculously girly drink with an umbrella. Well. He knows who that's for. "Cool, good to know."

Cool? Really? Seriously, who hired this guy?

"See you later, man."

And really, what is with fucking tacking on 'man' to every sentence? Sometimes, Spike just wants to pretend he's not even a member of the human race, how completely stupid and inane people can be. He makes a noncommittal noise and then goes back to watching Winnie and nursing his glass of orange juice. It's kind of like watching a kid throw a tantrum in public, he wants to look away, wants it with half of every fibre of his being, only he can't. At all. Winnie's got her hair down, waves falling on her shoulders and this grey shirt that's just way too tight in certain key areas and since he started becoming intimately acquainted with her key areas, this is a serious problem.

Also, he's been sneaking looks at her legs, doesn't remember ever seeing her in jeans that tight and possibly, when he goes to the bathroom, he's so busy looking, he nearly runs into the wall. Thinks the view from the back is pretty much as good as the view from the front. Not that he's looking. Not like he doesn't already know.

He heads outside for some air, thinks mournfully that life is a serious asshole sometimes, feels like kicking at the wall. Instead, he takes a deep breath, tells himself to stop thinking of acting like a six year old because no one's problems ever got solved that way, turns around to head back inside and comes face to face with Winnie. She's standing on the bottom step with one of her hands still on the open door, right on eye level with him and his breath is suddenly caught somewhere between his ribs.

"Hey."

He has to physically restrain himself from either kissing her or talking at her until she just decides that she wants to keep him forever. So. Lame. He really shouldn't have declared this as the day to stop drinking. "Hey Winnie."

"I thought you left." Is that relief? Disappointment? He has no fucking idea, spends half a second really glad that he doesn't need to profile this situation because he's pretty sure he'd get the whole entire thing really fucking wrong. And seriously, what _is_ it with this girl that he just can't even figure out which things go where? It's like he sees her outside of work and everything in him starts running five seconds behind.

He shrugs. "Just needed some air."

"Oh. Okay."

She's so close he can smell the sweet fruity drinks she's been downing all night. Taking a step backwards is really a thing he should be forcing himself to do. His right foot evidently isn't listening because it takes a small step closer to her. "Uh. So. Having fun?" Inwardly, he wants to just drop to his knees and sigh. Of all the choices in the world, he goes with 'having fun'? It's just right up there with 'come here often?' and he'd like a do-over on this whole night if anyone out there with any kind of pull is fucking listening.

She shrugs at him. "Not really." She clears her throat. "Where've you been all night? I um. Kinda thought you'd come keep me company." She sounds all teasing and he can see the cold settling into her skin. Yeah. He should look away.

He doesn't. "Looked like it'd be a crowd." He grins widely, tries to make it sound off-handed and he thinks he mostly succeeds.

She wrinkles her nose at him, looks all cute and a hundred different kinds of adorable and like, right there is why he's such a mess when it comes to her because sometimes, he wants to sit too close to her and drink hot chocolate even though he doesn't even fucking drink hot chocolate, and other times, he wants to just get his hands all over her, back her up against the nearest wall and- "Cause of him, maybe."

He stares at her, wonders what in the hell Winnie Camden's doing to him. "Uh-"

"Anyhow. I was thinking of leaving now. Um. Are you staying much longer?"

Spike watches in fascination as she pushes back one of those long waves of hair, as it bounces back up into her face. "Wasn't planning on it."

She clears her throat, smiles at him. "You wanna get something to eat?"

Clearly, he's now started to hallucinate.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Fifth and final part.

Thanks for reading this silly little story, and if you took the time to play around in that little box below, seriously, I owe you something really good. Will hijack your letter to Santa.

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He nearly asks her to repeat herself, how it sounds like he's hearing her through water and also, the fact that what he's hoping she said is probably at odds with what he figures she actually said-

"Spike?" she asks, looks all worried, eyes skittering away from his and then back. "Um-if you're not hungry, we don't have to-"

So clearly he didn't just imagine that whole thing and what he wants to say is that it's not a good idea, that it's just going to make him like her about a thousand times more, that he really should just go home, knock himself out to stop thinking about her but she's got this hopeful expression on her face, eyes all wide and he hears himself enthusiastically say, "Yeah, sure!" because he just can't say _no_. Also doesn't want to say no. So.

Which is how they end up sitting across from each other at a 24-hour diner sharing fries and an appallingly enormous waffle, Winnie sipping from this enormous milkshake and then pushing it at him, saying there's no way she can drink the whole thing and then stealing it back from under his nose with a little grin and he tries to ignore the fact that they're sharing a straw because it's not a thing. (It is _not_ a thing.)

And it's not like they haven't hung out before, they have (you know, before Leah went and pointed out things he tried to insist weren't there and before Winnie told him she'd rather date anyone else but him, just, you know, not in so many words) but he hadn't been obsessed with staring at her face then, thinking she just looked so pretty when she laughed and really, no girl had ever been able to make him laugh like this, that it's stupid-easy to talk to her, that she's fun and interesting and they never run out of things to say and yeah. Which – is what he's thinking now.

So. This was a bad idea.

When they're done and they've split the bill and are standing outside and he's thinking that he doesn't want to say good night to her like, ever and is also wondering how in the hell he can extricate himself from this situation without looking rude or being a shitty person, she looks at him and says, "Um. Would you mind walking me home?" And she kind of says it like if says no, it's no big deal, not at all.

And _of course_ he's going to fucking walk her home, obviously, there's no way he's letting her trundle around in the dark after midnight but it's just, well, how'd this turn out for them last time? He clears his throat, nods and they start walking in silence. She walks way too close to him, smiles at him when he glances at her and okay, seriously, he's starting to think he must have really pissed someone off in a past life.

It's an awkward silence for the first block, like a really horrific first date and a thing it's never been between them, and he blames it on the fact that there are absolutely no useful thoughts in his head (except for the one where he's thinking that he hasn't been drinking and he still really wants to take her home with him, get her clothes off, and that he's kind of hoping that maybe something will _happen_, which probably makes him some kind of huge creep but then again, she hasn't told him _no_ so what exactly does that mean and in any case, because he hasn't been drinking, it's a moot point) and then they start talking about chicken fingers, of all things, and he wants to just tell her that he can't do this anymore, that he can't listen to her laugh and know that she's not coming home with him, that he _really_ can't stand walking this close to her and not be allowed to touch her, that if he has to see her with her hair all pulled back or down or really, anything in between, and not get to just lean over and kiss her, he's going to lose his mind, but they get to her apartment building and she looks at him and he looks at her and he's about to force a smile and turn around and leave because he doesn't want to look like he's expecting something or anything and plus, he really does need to go home before he does something stupid like tell her he's still got a really big thing for her, when she goes, "You wanna come up?"

He thinks his mouth drops open. Because he is stone cold sober and after all the time that's passed and all the stuff she's soaked her alcohol up with, she's got to be pretty sober too. "Winnie-"

"You don't have to," she says hastily. "I mean, if you don't want-"

"I do," he interrupts. "That's kind of the problem."

She nods quickly and then pauses. "Wait, what? Why is that the problem?"

He makes a face, wishes he wasn't hearing Leah's voice in his head. "Come on-"

She lets out this sudden laugh and he has no idea what in the hell she's even laughing at. She stops and swallows, looks up at him. "Do you want to come upstairs with me?" And there is no trace of joking on her face, none at all.

Spike finds he can't tell her no, not when she's looking at him like that, he just can't lie to her when she's looking at him like that. And pretty much, he's a total pushover for her because he's going to do whatever she wants him to do. Even though he has no idea what in the fuck is going on here.

They ride the elevator up in silence. She stares straight ahead and he admits to himself that if this is a bad idea, all he wants to do is follow bad ideas.

She opens her front door, lets them in and then just looks at him. He looks back at her, thinks that keeping things straight in his own head would be a whole hell of a lot easier if she'd stop looking at him like that, like she's _willing_-

"You want anything?" she asks and her voice is low and she's walking towards him and he thinks it would be really really great if he could do this without thinking about how much he wants everything other than this (or you know, in addition to, because no matter what he tells himself about the shouldas, wouldas and couldas, this part is pretty great).

She kisses him, lips warm and soft and he kisses her back because he's fucking dumb as shit. And because he can't help it. She slides her arms up around his neck and he pulls her closer to him because he never fucking learns and because what he told Leah is true – if this is all he gets to have, he's going to take it.

Which probably makes him the biggest, saddest idiot on the planet.

He gets her shirt off pretty quick, unbuttons her jeans and touches her and she makes those little noises that he has literally been dreaming of since the first time he got her naked and like, really, this is so unfair, she smells like shampoo and diner-food and he just wants to-

She pulls away suddenly, clears her throat. "I uh. I don't do this, you know."

"Do what?" he asks stupidly. Yeah well, in his defence, he's a guy and his brain is still stalled out on her skin and her breasts and every other part of her too.

"I don't go sleeping with my co-workers. Ever. I've never done this."

He snorts. "Except for the other times we've done this?" Cringes immediately because _hi_, that sure sounds like he's calling her too friendly. Or easy. Or something.

She laughs though, relief flooding her features and he has no idea what's got her so relieved and no idea how one person can be so vibrant when they're laughing but there you go, shit that can't be explained happens every single day. "Yeah. Except for those. Kind of seems like. You know. An exception."

He's pretty sure he's got a class A moronic look on his face, but he just has no idea what she's talking about (or even why they're talking at all, to be honest). "What?"

She clears her throat again, won't look him in the eye. "Um. You wanna date?"

"I-what?" He's a genius, evidently.

"Me. Do you want to date me?"

He rolls his eyes, feels a cautious smile spreading across his face. "I asked _you_ out, remember?"

She laughs, this nervous high-pitched thing that he swears he didn't even know she could do. "I know but I…I kind of feel like…can we start over?"

"Start over what?" He still has no idea what she's talking about but he kind of thinks this can't be a bad thing, not for him, not at all.

She huffs, makes a face at him. "Ask me again. Ask me out again. Please." Her voice is all soft and kind of trembling like she thinks he's going to turn her down or something-

He thinks his jaw is somewhere on the ground, thinks he may have to actually bend down and pick it back up. "I. Okay. Uh. You want to go out sometime?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Yes. I would love to."

He lets out this slightly-hysterical chuckle. "Are you serious?" This entire evening feels like he wandered into someone's basement, found a flux capacitor, fucked up a past event really hard and then ended up in a future that makes no sense (and _seriously_, why in the fuck is he thinking about Marty McFly?) and he has to wrench himself back into the conversation.

"I mean, not-you don't have to-only if you want to."

He opens and closes his mouth for a moment, like he can't find any words because every single thing he thought he knew about five and a half minutes ago is now ass over elbow. He's grinning at her though. "Winnie, I-of _course_ I want to." He shakes his head, pulls her closer to him and kisses her gently on the mouth.

She lets out this soft sound, slides her arms up around his neck and he's kissed her quite a bit here, you know, he's gotten fairly familiar with the way her mouth feels and the way she tastes, but it's never been a kiss like this, all filled with things he hadn't even realized had been there the whole time, quiet and promise and she laughs softly against his mouth, pulls him closer to her by the bottom of his shirt.

Also, everything else that follows? Slow. And when he runs his fingers over her waist, she shivers, lets him see everything all over her face. She moans into his shoulder, eyes tightly closed and she makes this little gasping sound every time he moves.

So, basically, the evening is not bad for his ego, is all he's saying.

Although, it's not exactly good for the rest of him because somehow they end up in the shower and she elbows him hard in the side of the face by accident and a huge bottle of shampoo lands on his foot and they're both laughing, sliding all over the place and yes, it _is_ completely impractical to have any kind of sex in the shower but apparently, the two of them are going to ignore all of that and do it anyway.

She hops onto the bed afterwards, curls up on his chest and grins, so close he can count all her eyelashes.

He rolls his eyes at her, knows he's grinning too, hugs her close to him.

"Um. I guess I should apologize."

"For what?" It's just – he's really tired now and not exactly up to having a serious conversation. He wonders if she's one of those girls who likes doing that, having serious conversations with her boyfriends after sex, distinctly remembers one girlfriend he had who used to _cry_, which was entirely horrifying and a thing he never got used to. Is kind of (really) hoping that Winnie's not one of those girls.

She clears her throat. "Being really…for saying no?"

He snorts, thinks about all the things Leah's been telling him to do for far too long. He probably owes her like, a drink or something. "It's okay." Well, it is _now_, you know, things getting all reorganized in his brain.

She snorts, picks at the sheet a little. "Um. I dunno. I think I was pretty stupid."

"You aren't stupid." Actually, if she wants to talk stupid, he could probably tell her about the really foolish prank he and Ed pulled on Sam three days ago but this probably isn't the time for gravy and glue guns.

"Mm. I might be. Suppose it's a good thing I didn't let you get drunk with Sam's sister, eh?"

He stares at her, kind of hears some warning bells going off here but has no idea how to phrase any of this politely. "You think that's the only reason I'm here?" He can't help it – he laughs right in her face, thinks of all those nights he spent alone thinking about her, those two mornings he got to wake up with her and how it felt like something he wanted to sign on for on a pretty permanent basis. "I asked you out before all of that. Which. Is a thing you might want to remember."

She doesn't say anything.

He wants to roll his eyes at himself, stop himself from telling her the next bit but figures he's a totally lost cause when it comes to her. "You realize I've been torturing myself this whole time? Cause nothing ever really changed for me. Only, thinking you didn't want-"

"I do want," she says earnestly.

He huffs. "Yes but-"

"I tried to tell you. That I wanted, you know. Another chance. Except then we ended up sleeping together and you never said anything about it." She looks so embarrassed, cheeks all red and how she keeps fidgeting.

"Yeah. Probably because you turned me down." He's starting to smile though, everything she's saying starting to sink in and how he kind of wants to shake his head at the both of them.

She makes a face at him, shoves him in the side. "Are you just going to keep bringing that up?"

"Yeah, probably. You going to keep putting up with it?"

She laughs. "Yeah. Probably. Or like. You know. Definitely."

He raises his eyebrows at her, tugs her closer so he can kiss her. "Good to know."

* * *

"So." It's amazing how she can interject so very much into a two letter word.

Spike sighs before he glances up at Leah. "So what?"

Winnie looks between the two of them and then snorts. "I have to go to the bathroom." She hops off his lap and then grins at him. "Talk quickly."

"Funny," he says, finds himself grinning back at her.

Leah doesn't even wait until Winnie's left, drops into the seat beside him and then rolls her eyes. "Look at me, Scarlatti, or I'm going to take the seat Winnie was just in."

He makes a face at her. "Okay okay. What is it?"

"Nothing. I mean. You're totally welcome, by the way." She has a smug expression on her face.

"For _what_?" Because mostly, all he's thinking about right now is that five seconds ago, he and Winnie were talking, her bare shoulder was something he could press his lips to every now and again and they were looking at pictures on the same phone – and now they're not.

"I know you don't think the two of you got together just because of the two of you." She snorts rudely. "Please."

He sighs. "Leah, seriously, what do you want?"

"Ehh. Just to rub in the fact that I told you so." She grins at him and he finds himself reluctantly grinning back, her smile infectious. "You look happy."

"I am." It's a whole lot more enjoyable being able to enjoy having really good sex with someone you really like and who you no longer have to pretend not to really like. If anyone was wondering.

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Okay. Well. Just to let you know, Ben's totally up in Winnie's grill right now."

Spike raises his back at her. "Is he? Well. She's a big girl. Can take care of herself." He can afford to be a little more generous now that he knows Ben-and-Winnie is not a thing that's going to happen (apparently, Ben's not her type, who knew?).

"Ha! How things have changed."

"Leah." Only he sees the look on her face and starts laughing.

She's laughing too. "Okay okay. God, he really is hot though."

Spike just rolls his eyes. Fucking Ben. (So he's not going to be _too _generous.) "Well maybe you can go annoy him and let my girlfriend come back over here."

"You're in a much better mood when she's your girlfriend than when she isn't."

He shoots Leah an exasperated look. "Thank you for pointing that out."

"And for totally making it happen." She still sounds really fucking smug.

"You do realize that you didn't _do_ anything, right?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Please. You have no idea how completely dense you are. I thought I was going to have to come right out and tell you that I knew!"

He sighs patiently. "Knew what?"

"The whole story. You don't even know how difficult it was to talk Winnie down from the ledge of never mentioning it again. The two of you really need to learn to use your words."

He stares at her in utter disbelief. "Leah Kearns is telling me to use my words?" He snorts rudely but it's so ludicrous that he just ends up laughing. "Because all of that stuff with the smirking and the gesturing and the eyebrows-"

"How is it _my_ fault that you're so dense, you need someone to come right out and say it?"

"Right. How unreasonable of me." All of that said, he probably _does_ owe Leah a drink, at the very least, at this point.

"Damn straight. You're SRU, it should be easy! Okay, now seriously. You think I can get Ben to go home with me?"

He makes a face at her. "Contrary to whatever you may think, I'm not one of your girlfriends." He glances at Ben and then snickers. "But as you said, he's a little slow. I'm sure you can convince him."

"Excellent," she says. Gets up and squeezes his shoulder. "I'll let your honeybunch come back over here now."

He sighs, doesn't bother correcting her. Some battles are really just not worth it and it's not like she makes those kinds of awful comments when there's anyone else within hearing range.

"Hey," Winnie says, sliding into the seat next to him. "You have any idea why Ben was asking me if I was going to bring you an orange juice?"

He makes a face. "It's a long and painful story." Trust Fucking Ben to have noticed that. He wonders if he can convince Sam to help him rig something to blow up in the guy's locker. (Not that he's going to - because that would be childish.)

"I figured. Any idea why he was asking me if we're off and on?"

He clears his throat. "Nope. Leah says he's confused so. Probably that."

Winnie's grinning at him. "Yeah, you're probably right. Moving right along. You wanna leave soon?"

"Whenever you want."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't mean, do you want to go home and go to bed," she says with an impatient sigh. "I mean. Do you want to. _Leave_. Like. Round the back. In the alley."

"Round the-" He swallows, glances down at her not-even-remotely-low-cut shirt. "Um. Yes. Okay. That is a thing I would not object to."

"I bet," she mutters in his ear, looks all happy and pleased with herself. "Well?"

He catches Leah's eye on the way out and she shakes her head like she knows exactly what he's thinking and he snorts and looks pointedly at Ben and when Winnie turns around abruptly as soon as they get outside and kisses him, he thinks that people communicating in looks has actually turned out pretty well for him so far (not that he's going to tell anyone else that).

And yeah, he really does owe Leah that drink.


End file.
